


No Place Like Home

by Vikkikate89



Series: We Are the Broken [2]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Other, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Murder, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Torture, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vikkikate89/pseuds/Vikkikate89
Summary: Juice adjusts to life with his new roommate, Lily slowly opens herself up a bit more when Juice discovers what's in her past, and Tully faces the reality that he'll be returning to Stockton very soon.





	1. Part 1

##  When Night Falls

~*~

_ The cell was tight. Meant for only one person. But he was not alone. _

_ Juice stared up at the taller man as his stomach began to drop. He knew what was coming. Knew that no amount of fighting would stop it. He did not want it. He. Did. Not. Want. It. _

_ How had his life reached this point? How had it gotten this far? Those questions had haunted him over the last several days, but now they were like screams that echoed through his head. It was never supposed to be this way. _

_ The tall man had no patience. Not even for the very clearly frightened and unwilling con in front of him. He reached out and grabbed Juice by the shoulders, turning him around to face the bench anchored to the wall. And then his voice came out in a deep rasp, a bit of a southern drawl leaking out in his words. “Makin’ me wait, won’t work well for you, baby.” _

_ Juice wanted to vomit. Wanted to run. Maybe he could fight. He would not win but at least he would have made the effort. Maybe he would even get killed… No. No, he was not ready to die. That tiny part of him that kept pushing him forward, kept making him hope that somehow, some way, things would turn around. Things would work out. Things would get better again. They had to… right? _

_ He could not answer that question. All he could do was lower himself to the bench, crawling on slowly at first, then bringing himself to lie flat on his belly. There was silence for a long time, or at least what felt like a long time. Time moved oddly in prison. Especially in the deepest, darkest parts where there were no windows. No sunlight. Just concrete and bars. And those two things were what he made his eyes focus on as he felt those large hands grab hold of his pants and drag them down his legs. _

_ Then he heard a grunt, some shifting, then the overwhelming shadow of the tall man covering over him. Juice stared hard at the walls. The bars. Anything he could bring his focus to. Anything at all. And as he felt  _ **_it_ ** _  begin to prod at his ass, one thing echoed in his mind. Escape. Escape. ESCAPE. _

_ Until he was able to lie still. Almost lifeless. Soundless. Separate from his body and what the tall man was doing to it. _

 

_ Inside a small apartment bedroom, Lily stirred in her bed, the sounds of skittish pacing and incoherent mumblings catching her attention. She sat up, watching as the shaky form across the room paced nervously. He was talking to himself again. Saying things she could not understand. Even if he spoke up or enunciated she knew nothing he was saying would make any sense. When Dylan had these moments, she found the best she could do was watch and let it play out. _

_ And hope it would not turn bad. _

_ But it was already turning bad. She could tell by the way he was scratching at his arms as he stumbled back and forth, hugging himself and shaking his head while he muttered. She sat very quietly, hoping she would disappear into the background and he would forget she was there. But she was never that lucky. _

_ When Dylan turned his head and caught sight of her, he froze, staring at her for a long time while his arms slowly unfolded themselves. “N- No… No no no no!” he stammered, his head shaking wildly. “Don’t be awake! Don’t be awake! Or they’ll know… they’ll know you weren’t sleeping. And then they’ll come after me. They’ll take you away. Lock me up. And I won’t be able to protect you.” _

_ Lily shuddered and swallowed hard over the lump forming in her throat. “Dylan…” she whispered. But her voice seemed to be his breaking point. _

_ “NO!” he snapped, moving swiftly to the bed. His boney hands gripped her upper arms so hard it hurt and she could not help the cry that escaped her mouth. “Be quiet! Do you want them to hear?! You know they’re already watching us!” She had asked him many times who “they” were but there was never an answer. _

_ She was scared. She was always scared. She trembled as tears rolled down her cheeks and struggled to keep her voice quiet. But her tears were enough to push him farther and with a loud crack she felt his palm crash against her face. Lily let out a sob, trying to recoil, but it only made him hit her again. And again. And again. _

_ “I HAVE to protect you! Why don’t you understand that?!” Dylan shouted, shaking her hard before throwing her off the side of the bed. “I have to protect you! But you keep drawing them closer! And you know what they’ll do to us! You fucking know, Lily!” His foot collided with her stomach, but by then she was already beginning to do what she always did. _

_ Lily found a spot on the wall and quickly imagined herself falling into it, getting lost in the nothingness. “Leave your body! Leave your body!” her mind screamed, and she did, losing herself until she no longer cried. No longer flinched. Just let herself lie still through every punch, every slap, every kick. She left and she stayed gone until it was over. _

_ When she returned, it was to the same scene as always. Her body roaring with pain, and Dylan curled up on the floor, sobbing into his hands. “Liiiiilllyyy…” he whimpered, his voice completely wrecked. Lily did not move or answer. Just watched him. Still not trusting it was over yet. Dylan rocked anxiously, his knees bent so that his legs pressed up against his chest. “H- Have to… p- protect you… H- Have to…” _

_ It seemed to have passed, but Lily remained still. Needing to be sure. Dylan lifted his head, looking at her as he sniffled pathetically. “Lily… Lily don’t… don’t tell… Don’t tell them. Please. Don’t. They’ll… they’ll l- lock me up… and I w- won’t be able to… to protect you… C- Can’t lose you.” He choked on another sob. “Can’t… lose you.” _

_ Lily watched him, saying nothing. Then, with a shaking hand, she slowly reached over, pushing back the thoughts of pain, until she was able to touch his leg. In the dark, she remained there, stroking over his shin with trembling fingers. _

 

_ In a shower in Stockton, the sounds of punches and kicks echoed off the tile walls, and soon Tully was knocked to the wet floor, gasping for air while every breath felt like fire. He knew he would not win this fight, but was not prepared for how quickly he would wish for it to be over. The pain was unbearable and he was almost ready to beg for them to please stop. Not that it would do any good. If they were going to kill him, he just wished they would get it over with. _

_ But what was worse was the voice in his head that would not let him take this lying down. “Fight back! Get up and fight back!” his mind snarled at him, but his body was having none of it. _

_ Then he heard the laughter.  Laughter that caused a brick to drop through his belly. And then there were two of them, each holding down one arm while one of them grabbed the back of his neck, forcing his face into the tiles. Then he heard the sound of one standing over him, adjusting clothing as he continued to let out that horrible laugh. _

_ Tully’s heart began to hammer wildly. No… NO NO NO NO NO!!! _

_ He struggled, crying out in pain as his broken ribs protested his efforts. But they held him down, not needing to use much strength as he was barely able to fight at all. He could see the shadow of the man lowering down over him, and with no further warning there came a tearing, fiery pain that caused him to make a sound he was not entirely sure was human. Unlike anything he himself had ever heard before. The sound of true, unbridled agony. _

_ Now he was begging. Pathetically begging as his breath sputtered over the puddles of water on the shower floor. “STOP! PLEASE STOP!” That only made them laugh harder. To see an AB shot-caller brought down so low. _

_ Unable to fight anymore, his mind began to beg with him, “Just make it go away… Make it go away…” And he tried. He had seen that dead look in his own victims’ eyes before. When they retreated somewhere in their heads to shut out what he was doing. He tried. Goddamn he tried… But as the Triads cycled through, one by one, he was trapped. Unable to escape. Unable to shut them out. _

_ He was trapped. _

 

##  When Morning Comes

~*~

##  Juice

Juice woke in a cold sweat, his stomach twisting in knots and even though there was nothing there in his stomach, he knew he was going to throw up. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the bathroom, not having the time to close the door before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and heaved. He heaved over and over again, his stomach determined to force out contents that were not even there.

When it was over, he fell backwards on the floor, trembling hard while sweat leaked through his clothes. He did not need to look up to know she was there.

Juice opened his eyes, looking at Lily as she stood in her night shirt, shoulder length hair a bit messy and her eyes looking like she had clearly just woken up. He struggled with his breathing while trying to form words. Eventually, he managed out a, “H- Hey…”

He did not need to tell her anything. Never did. She always knew. Always was watching over him in her own way. She moved closer to him, sitting down on her heels in front of him and opening her arms to him. Juice stared… then crawled forward, resting his head in her lap. Her fingertips began to massage at his scalp, and he closed his eyes, letting his body shudder and the tears fall while she comforted him. “Shh…” she soothed in a quiet voice. “It’s okay… It’s gonna be okay...”

##  Lily

She always woke up screaming and thrashing, fighting against someone in dreams she had never fought in real life. But when she did wake, it was always to the same thing. Warm hands holding on to her shoulders and a gentle voice, calling her back from the void. “Lil… Lil… C’mon girl… Wake up…”

Her eyes opened and she gasped sharply, her brain still processing the sharp transition from nightmares to reality. But Juice would wait. He always waited. Never angry about the hour or how loud she had been screaming. Just always there, ready to yank her back out of it.

Still shaky, she leaned into him, hiding her face into his chest while she began to cry. Juice gently hushed her while drawing her into his arms to hold her firmly. “It’s okay Lil… It’s okay… Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore… ‘kay? Not gonna let it happen.” And she would tremble, possibly cry for a while… but she would know she was safe. Really truly safe.

##  Tully

The quiet was always the worst. Not even the beeping monitors or the sounds of his oxygen tank did enough to drown it out. In fact, they often made it worse, bleeding into each other until he would start to hear things that were not really there. And then he would see the shadows out of the corners of his eyes. Movements. Positive they were there. Slowly closing in.

His heart would hammer. His body would tremble. He would close his eyes and try to drown it out, try to escape the fear. But it never worked. It was always there, running through his mind.

And he was completely alone.


	2. Part 2

##  Lily

Whenever it happened, she was always helpless to stop it.

It would always start with a feeling in her chest. Like steel band closing in over her ribs, making it hard to breathe. She would feel like she was suffocating. Then came the plunging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Those were the warning signs of what was coming.

Soon came the things she would see. The carpet beneath her feet would turn into an old linoleum floor. The windows would turn from clean to dirty. The walls would change from beige to a light blue.

And then she would hear the footsteps.

Her heart would pound. Breathing would become almost impossible. The nerves in the back of her brain would crackle like a live current.

Then the shouting.

“She didn’t mean to do it! It was an accident, Greg! Greg, let it go! Let it go!”

A loud crack. The stinging on her cheek. The throbbing in her eye. The way her body began to shake, terror erupting in her veins.

“GREG! YOU BASTARD!”

The footsteps turning. Turning to the source of the shouting. She wanted to scream. Wanted to tell him to stop. But he wouldn’t listen. She was six. She was nothing. Even more of a nothing than her mother.

And then the screaming. The sounds of fists on flesh. Cries of pain.

She knew what to do. Her mother had told her several times before. She knew what to do. She needed to hide. Hide and be safe. Hide until it stopped. She had done it before. Her face was burning but that was not important. She needed to hide.

She was running from the living room. Running to the kitchen. She needed to hide. She needed to hide now.

Under the sink. The cupboard was small. A little cramped. But she fit. She tucked herself inside, knocking a box of dish detergent over. She would clean it later. Before he saw it. The small door closed behind her and she curled tight, hugging her legs while she waited.

And waited.

It would be over soon. He would stop. She would hear her mother crying. He would say (or shout) something, and then he would leave. He would calm down. And then he would apologize like he always did. Maybe make it better with ice cream.

It would be over soon. She just needed to wait. Wait and pray to whoever was listening that he did not find her.

Mommy would be okay.

Mommy would be okay.

##  Juice

Post traumatic stress disorder was nothing new to Juice. Lord knew he had his own demons. But even he was not ready for the first time he saw it fully affect Lily. And it had come out of nowhere just as he was waking up and heading to the bathroom.

Normally, it came in the form of nightmares. He would wake at any given hour of the night to the sounds of her screaming and thrashing in her sleep. When he would wake her, it would be anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours for her to stop shaking. And he would never leave her side until she felt safe enough to go back to sleep. This time, however, there was no screaming. Just frantic footsteps, followed by the sounds of crashing and clattering in the kitchen. Then a cabinet door slamming shut. Juice’s brow furrowed. Curious as to what the hell was going on, he decided his bladder could wait as he went forward to investigate.

The kitchen was still dark and he could see the shadows of some sort of mess on the floor. Fumbling for the switch, he blinked several times when the lights flickered on, his vision blurring before coming into focus on the spilled box of dish detergent and knocked over bottles of cleaner. It looked like someone had cleared out the cabinet under the sink in a hurry.

“Lily?” he yawned, taking a look around the room, but she was nowhere in sight. He wandered into the living room but she was not there either. That left the possibility he thought was too strange but he was running out of ideas. Walking back into the kitchen, he knelt down at the sink and pulled open the cabinet.

Something light but rough immediately struck him in the face and the cabinet door was yanked shut, followed by a muffled cry. It happened so fast, Juice lost his balance and fell backwards on the floor with a shout of, “What the-!” landing on the gritty detergent littered behind him. The sponge that had struck him in the face landed just in front of him.

He sat still for several seconds, trying to process what was going on. Lily was under the sink, that much was clear. And in the silence he could hear her trying to keep her heavy breathing quiet though the occasional whimper leaked through. Hiding and trying hard to not be found. Possibly not even fully aware of her actual surroundings. Did she do this with her ex? The thought made him feel sick.

And his bladder gave him a warning pang.

One thing at a time, he decided grimly. Getting up, he headed to the bathroom to take care of that first, then he could begin to figure out just what on earth he was supposed to do about the woman hiding under the sink.

It was over an hour after he had cleaned up the mess that the cabinet door finally creaked open. By then, Juice was already up for the day, a mug of coffee in his hands. His head perked up when he saw the movement and he waited silently, watching as Lily’s head slowly poked out and looked both ways.

“Morning…” he offered, trying to keep his tone light despite the millions of questions burning through his mind. She looked up at him, blinking several times, then slowly crawled out the rest of the way, pushing the cabinet shut behind her.

He wanted to say something -to ask a lot of things- but he made himself wait, watching her with an almost morbid fascination. She was moving a little shaky, taking a while to finally come up from the floor and stand upright, and once she was, she was hugging herself tightly and seeming to avoid eye contact with him. It took a minute for him to realize she was burning with embarrassment. Maybe treating it like everything was still normal would help, he wondered.

“Just made a fresh pot, if you want some,” he offered, gesturing to the coffee maker. “Was thinking of making some pancakes too.”

Lily slowly regarded the coffee pot, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself. She was very hesitant. Probably expecting the inevitable question of, “What the hell was that?” But when it did not come, she made her way to the cupboard for a mug. He let her fix it up the way she liked it and waited until she was several sips in before he spoke again.

“Your ID came in the mail today,” he mentioned, pointing to an envelope on the counter. It had already been torn open. “Whenver’s a good time, we should head over to Joan’s so she can make a copy for her records.” Lily did not have a driver’s license and her old ID had been lost somewhere in the mess of her ex, Dylan’s, apartment. Juice knew damn well there was no way they were getting that one back. Thankfully, Joan had been understanding as always, and just told them to bring it by when they could. “Almost didn’t think it was yours,” he added. “Had your last name but didn’t recognize the first. Sorry, but I opened it just to check.” Still a felony but he doubted she was reporting him. “Your name’s not really Lily?”

Lily stared hard at her mug for several seconds, then slowly shook her head.

“So… it’s like a nickname then? How does Claire become Lily?” he asked with a soft chuckle. He was trying to keep things light and talkative. Maybe encourage her to open up a bit more. But the length it was taking her to answer him made him worried he was picking on a sore spot. And after the strange night they both had, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Never liked my real name,” she finally replied, lifting her head a bit but not quite looking at him yet. “But… I like Lily.”

Juice offered a contemplative smile as he nodded his head. “It fits. You look like a Lily.” Whatever the hell that meant. He just wanted her to feel more comfortable. It seemed to work. Her expression lightened a bit more. “Was thinking we could take that by the office, then make a few runs to some second-hand shops before group. Been needing to pick up some more jeans.”

She nodded her head, a faint smile even tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I need some stuff too. That sounds good.” Juice nodded his head, then stood up, giving the table a pat.

“Sounds like a plan. But first… pancakes.”

An hour later with full bellies, Juice walked Lily to Joan’s “office,” which was in actuality just her own little house in the center of the complex. Juice had learned fairly early on that Joan was not the typical business woman, let alone landlady. She was in her 70’s, clearly a product of the hippie movement, and a very laid back woman. She loved to dress herself in loose fitting baggy dresses -some of which Juice was certain she had made herself- and there was often the distinct smell of cannabis in the air. Possibly medicinal but he never asked as it was none of his business. The first time he had brought Lily by to have her fill out the paperwork, he was secretly happy for the two of them to meet. Joan had been nothing but friendly and supportive towards him and having more people like that in Lily’s life would help her. Even if it was just a landlady, having people replace the badness in your past with kindness made all the difference.

Joan answered the door in an Iron Maiden t-shirt and jeans, a new look that made Juice snicker a bit, and she greeted the two of them with a warm grin. Having Lily’s ID copied for the records only took a few minutes though it was almost a full half hour before they finally left. Joan loved to talk and her pleasant manner seemed to do the trick to help Lily fully poke her head back out from her shell. By the time they left, they were both smiling and ready to take on the day.

They visited a few different stores, stocking up on clothes and other things they’d been needing around the house, and by the time they made it to group therapy, the events of the night before seemed to had lifted fully. Juice and Lily took seats next to each other in the circle, receiving a smile from Dr. Chandler, and for the first time, Juice found himself happily participating. He opened up when it was time to share what was going in their lives, talking about how happy he was to have a new place and a good roommate, and his attitude seemed to rub off on Lily because she opened up too, telling the group about how she was considering beginning to look for a job.

Of course the session did not always remain light. The others in the group had plenty of bad experiences they needed to share as well, but being able to have some light to shine made Juice feel for the first time that things were going right. Things were turning around.

The session ended and as he stood to help fold the chairs to store away, he was stopped by Dr. Chandler’s voice as she approached him. “Mr. Ortiz?”

He paused, still bent over to fold the chair he had been sitting on. “Yeah?”

Dr. Chandler maintained a warm smile as if trying to assure him there was nothing to worry about before saying, “Do you mind if I have a word? It’ll only be a moment.” She turned her head, regarding Lily’s curious stare and added with the same smile, “I was so glad to hear from you today. Thank you for sharing with us. I hope we get to hear some more of that in the future.” Lily responded with a sheepish smile, then moved to gently take Juice’s chair from him so he would be free to discuss whatever the doctor wanted.

Juice had never had to speak with Dr. Chandler one-on-one. He had always only attended the group sessions, finding more comfort in listening and finding things to think about rather than having to open up and dissect what was in his own head. It may have not been what was recommended, but it worked well enough for him. He followed her to the far corner of the gymnasium that was regularly rented for these meetings, and he knew the others would know well enough to give them their privacy. There was an unspoken code of respect in the group and he had always appreciated that.

When they came to a stop, he gave a shrug and an awkward smile. “Am I in trouble?” he joked.

Dr. Chandler gave a soft chuckle and shook her head. “No, of course not. You’re not in trouble.” She paused, adjusting her hold on her clipboard but clearly having no intentions of taking any notes. This was clearly meant to be a casual talk. “I just wanted to take a moment to check in. You know I work with Joan and she says the move seems to have worked out great for the both of you. I just wanted to see if you’re feeling the same way?”

Juice nodded, turning his head to watch as Lily waited her turn to stack their chairs away. “Yeah,” he answered, turning back. “We’re both very happy.” He did not feel comfortable discussing Lily’s personal life let alone the incident from the night before behind her back.

“That’s wonderful. That’s what I wanted to hear.” She beamed at Juice. “I’m so glad Joan was able to help you both out. She’s a good woman. I think you guys will love her. She likes to get to know her tenants and often becomes very close friends with them.”

“She was really nice,” Juice agreed with an amused huff. “She’s been… very accommodating.”

“Good.” She paused and her smile faltered a little. “Juice… the other reason I wanted to talk to you was to check in on you personally.” Juice’s own smile faded as he began to wonder if he had shown any signs of not being okay. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news,” she continued and at once he began to feel the nerves prickle at the back of his neck. “About the attack at Stockton,” she clarified though she clearly didn’t need to. Juice knew she had been in regular communication with his parole officer when he first attended sessions. There was no other piece of breaking news that could possibly affect him personally than a story taking place in the very facility he had been released from. He looked away from her gaze, trying not to remember seeing that mugshot on the TV. That face he never wanted to see again. They had been avoiding network TV at the apartment but it didn’t stop him from seeing the headlines on the papers or magazines. The story had gone viral and it was almost impossible for him to escape it. Lily was right. Everyone loved seeing a neo-nazi get his ass handed to him.

“I know seeing stories like that can be difficult,” Dr. Chandler continued. “Whether you knew the people involved or not.” Good. So she did not know his affiliation with Tully. That was the last thing he wanted her to know about. “I just wanted to check in and… let you know if you ever need a one-on-one session, or just a moment to talk, you are welcome to call me. Just wanted to make sure you knew that was available to you.”

Juice nodded his head slowly, then forced a convincing smile. “Thanks, Dr. Chandler. But really, I’m fine. It’s been five years. Stockton’s staying in my past.”

She nodded her head and patted his shoulder. “Well, the offer still stands if you ever need it.” She paused and looked over his shoulder, her smile growing warm again. “Lily looks happier, by the way. That’s a good thing to see.” Juice turned again to look and saw she was waiting near the door, her coat already pulled on while his own was tucked in her arms.

“Yeah, she seems happy,” he agreed.


	3. Part 3

##  Tully

“You’re damn lucky my client isn’t looking to press charges over this blatant lack of respect for his privacy! Because I swear to god if I ever find out who leaked his attack to the press…”

“Mr. Orwell, please be calm-”

“Be calm? I’ll be calm when your half-wit staff gets their shit together and brings by those painkillers we asked for over ten minutes ago! Now get on it. I need to talk to my client.”

There came the sounds of an annoyed huff and irritated footsteps clomping their way down the hall, but soon all was quiet again and Tully waited until he could hear another set of footsteps making their way to his hospital room. Clark Orwell was one of the scummiest lawyers known to the area and also the one you wanted if you were a convict. He knew the system and he knew every way to bend and twist it to his and his well paying clients’ advantage.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” Orwell apologized as he closed the door behind him. “The shit this staff thinks they can get away with. By the way, your pain meds are on the way. Threatened them with a lawsuit for breaking their oath to “do no harm” by denying painkillers to a patient out of prejudice.” He was grinning, clearly proud of himself but Tully said nothing on the matter, just lazily turned off the TV instead so they could get this over with.

“What’d you come to talk to me about?” he asked, turning his attention to his lawyer.

“Right… cutting to the chase. Well, let’s see…” He pulled his briefcase in his lap to sort through the files. “Now, since your expulsion from the AB, they’re no longer helping to chip in with legal fees, which I’m sure you already know…”

He said it like it was nothing, but the reminder that he was out still stung and Tully struggled to control the darkening look in his eyes.

“However, they’ve agreed -in writing- that you’ll be able to keep the income you’ve saved up from them over the years-”

“Damn right I will,” Tully cut in, his temper rising at the implication that his own savings would even be an issue. “I fucking earned that money working my ass off for those bastards.”

“Hey hey,” Orwell spoke up, holding up a hand to signal him to calm down. “It’s always good to cover your bases. Keeps away ugly surprises down the road.” He pulled out a document and passed it to Tully. “Anyways, this is for you to look at. Just has all the details regarding your termination. Like I said, no one touches your savings, but obviously you’ll no longer be making a monthly percentage.”

Tully skimmed it, barely retaining any of it as it was hard to focus right that moment, and he passed the papers back. “Anything else?” he asked with a sigh.

A nurse walked in at that moment and the two men went quiet, watching as she injected something into his IV line and then left, seeming to sense they needed her to be quick about it. There came a faint burning sensation where the needle was pierced into his arm, but a warm numbness was beginning to follow. He would only have a few minutes before his brain would begin to feel fuzzy.

“There is one more matter,” Orwell answered, stuffing the papers back in his briefcase and locking it. “Now… obviously if you continue to work with me, that’s coming out of your pocket entirely, not the AB’s. But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep doing business together.”

“Get to the point,” Tully grumbled, his vision beginning to blur a little. He fought to keep his brain in the moment.

“In my legal opinion… what’s happened to you here, from the assault to the lack of proper medical care… you have a case. Maybe a strong enough one to push for an earlier release on parole.”

Tully snorted, ignoring how it made his ribs burn. “Because they’re really gonna let someone with my record walk early over what they probably see as karma.”

“Hey, law is law,” his lawyer objected, though Tully couldn’t help wondering what twisted warped version of the law he actually meant this time. “Just… just think about it, okay? It might be worth trying. ‘Cos I’m pretty sure you’re not eager to go back there.”

Tully’s stomach dropped. No. No he was not. He was trying hard not to think about it.

Another warm wave washed over his brain and he let his head relax into his pillow with a sigh. Orwell frowned, able to tell the window for lucidity had passed and he stood up with his briefcase. “Think about it, okay? And gimme a call. I’ll be checking back later anyways.” Of course he would. Tully had no doubt he had managed to glimpse just how much was in his account. Otherwise he wouldn’t even be bothering to look for a case.

When the door to his room closed and he was alone again, Tully closed his eyes, trying to let the narcotics work their magic on him. It had been days since he’d had a proper night’s sleep.

But alone in his room… the footsteps echoing in the surrounding halls seemed to keep getting louder. The walls surrounding him were inching their way closer. Closing him in. Trapping him. And the air coming in through the vents… it was too loud. Growing louder.

Starting to sound like water from a shower nozzle…

And the footsteps… the walls… the noise…

His eyes snapped open. With a snap, he picked up the remote and turned the TV back on, letting the noise cancel out the deafening silence.

##  Juice

_ “Three members of the Triads found murdered in their cells of Stockton. Police suspect the Aryan Brotherhood…” _

_ “Aryan Brotherhood inmate still in critical condition after violent attack…” _

_ “Investigation underway as to the security and conditions of Stockton State Prison…” _

Juice squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. His talk with Dr. Chandler had left his brain thinking about the things he had been fighting to shut out and after tossing in bed for an hour, he had given in, taking to the internet to see if there was any news. He knew he should not be doing this. Knew he should leave it alone and let it pass. Even now, he didn’t know why he was giving in. This wasn’t going to help anything. He knew that. And seeing more images of Tully on the screen was bringing back that twisting feeling in his stomach. Not to mention his own bad memories of the Triads as the faces of the ones found dead were also appearing.

A roll of thunder broke him from his thoughts, followed by the sounds of Lily’s bedroom door opening. He quickly closed the browser window and watched as she poked her head out from the hallway, a blanket wrapped tightly around her. “Hey,” he croaked, needing to clear his throat from the lump he hadn’t realized was there. “Can’t sleep?”

Lily shook her head, wandering out into the living room with a shiver. “Hate thunder…” she answered, her voice sounding small. “Kn- Know it’s just noise… but…”

Juice nodded in understanding, offering a smile of sympathy. “Yeah, I’m not a fan either.” Another roll crashed through right at that moment, causing the both of them to jump. He watched her nervously, seeing the terror beginning to grow in her eyes. He knew that look.

“Here,” he said, getting to his feet. “Got an idea…” He crossed the room, pulling open a closet and reached up to the top shelf, digging around a bit until he pulled out an old jigsaw puzzle. “You like puzzles? Can help get our minds off it.” God knew he had a lot he needed to get his mind away from. Lily nodded and he carried it to a nice clear space on the floor before dumping it out. “Need to get a bigger table for these,” he muttered, knowing the coffee table they had wouldn’t be wide enough. But the floor would work.

“Can I turn something on?” Lily asked, pointing to the TV. “Just… for some background noise?”

“Yeah. Go ahead and pick something from Netflix if you want,” he answered, shifting through the pieces. A few minutes later she was sitting beside him, some sitcom complete with laugh track droning in the background. Juice turned over one half of the box and placed it near enough for them to both reach. “Look for edge pieces first. Can put them in that and the rest can go in this one.” He held up the other half of the box and began to pick out the different pieces, sorting them into either box.

The first few rumbles of thunder still made them both jumpy, but once the pieces were sorted and they were beginning to assemble the border, it became easier for them to tune it out. Juice had been learning little tricks for a while, things to keep his mind busy whenever it was trying to go someplace bad. Truth be told, this would not have been a bad idea for him to have tried earlier, but at least he was doing it now. They barely spoke, other than offering suggestions as to what might fit where. It wasn’t for at least two hours before Juice began to notice the storm had passed. By then, Lily had curled up on the floor in her blanket and drifted to sleep. It made him smile, thinking she looked just like a little kid. Comfortable and safe. He thought of moving her to her bed where she would be more comfortable, but he let her be, not wanting to wake her. After all, they had both had a long night before this. She needed whatever sleep she could catch.

And that made him wonder.

His eyes shifted to his laptop again, internally debating if he should do it. They still had not spoken about what had happened late last night or the awkward discovery in the morning. He didn’t know how to bring it up and was reluctant to. And now that he knew she wasn’t even going by her real name…

Moving as quietly as he could, he climbed back onto the couch and unfolded the computer in his lap. He would try just a general search engine first, though he hardly expected that would pull anything. When the search bar came up, he carefully typed in “Claire Palmer,” trying not to make too much noise on the keys.

What immediately popped up was something he wasn’t ready for.

News articles. Several of them. All of them working either “murder” or “homicide” in their headlines. His eyes wandered to Lily, watching her sleep peacefully unaware, and he took a breath before clicking on the first link.

> _ “ _ **_Shock Grips Neighborhood as Local Man is Arrested for Murder:_ **
> 
> _ At 9am, Colorado Springs police were called to make a courtesy check on local resident Lily Palmer (31), after she had not reported for work and was not responding to phone calls. When police arrived on the scene, they discovered her body in her residence, having been stabbed multiple times with a butcher knife, though the coroner has reported the official cause of death was strangulation. _
> 
> _ Palmer’s daughter, Claire (6), was also reported missing by her school when she did not attend class. Police began to fear the worst, but while investigating the crime scene, she was later discovered hiding under the kitchen sink, just feet away from her mother’s body. Claire has been taken by Child Protective Services while her father, Greg (42), has been taken into police custody for the murder. _
> 
> _ According to local neighbors, Greg was a known alcoholic with a violent temper, and while many of them heard the fighting that broke out the night of Lily’s death, no one made any attempt to report it…” _

Juice felt his stomach churn and he looked up at Lily again with a worried gaze. And then he began making connections. The nightmares, her flight to hide under the kitchen sink… It wasn’t her past with Dylan she was reliving last night. It was something much worse. Something that had driven her to hide again like she had that night.

Not wanting to read anymore, he closed the browser and shut the laptop, setting it aside. He watched Lily sleep for a very long time, trying to decide what to do with that information. He knew there was trauma in her past. Knew there were bad things. But this was not what he had expected. Not even close. What do you even say to someone with that in their past?

And why was she now going by her mother’s name?

There were too many questions, many of them making him feel worse. Bad enough that he couldn’t just leave her alone on the floor. He stood up, moving behind her, then let himself lie down. He wanted to wrap an arm around her. To pull her up against him and let her feel protected. But she was sleeping and he would never do anything like that without her permission. He understood boundaries. Instead, he tucked an arm under his head and watched her sleep until the droning laugh track on the TV and the gentle rain on the windows lulled him into a light slumber.

##  Lily

  
It was nearing 8am when Lily opened her eyes, discovering she had spent the night on the living room floor. Her eyes wandered to the partially assembled puzzle and it made her smile a little. Juice had been right. It had helped. Keeping her hands busy and forcing her brain to focus had been perfect for forgetting about the storm outside. And now the sun was beginning to shine and the day was new.

A soft snore behind her called her attention and she turned her head enough to see Juice was behind her, lying on his back with one arm under his head and the other draped over his stomach. He must have spent the night there and something about that made her feel… safe. Cared for. It had been a while since she had felt that.

When she sat up, the movement somehow woke him, and Juice blinked several times before looking at her with tired eyes. “Mmf… G’morning…” He let out a yawn and gave a stiff stretch, many of his joints cracking. “Fuck…” he groaned. “Too old to sleep on the floor.”

“You coulda gone to bed,” Lily murmured, combing her hair out of her eyes with her fingers.

“You were scared,” Juice replied, rubbing his eyes. “Didn’t want you to feel alone. In case the storm came back.”

Lily smiled down at him, then reached a timid hand to trace her fingers over his own as it remained on his stomach. Juice’s eyes flickered down to her fingers, and he turned his palm over to lightly take hold of her hand. The contact made her feel a bit of warmth and she gave him a light squeeze before standing up. “I’ll do breakfast this time. French toast?” She was already halfway to the kitchen before she heard him call back.

“Sounds good. Think I got some bacon we can cook up too…”


	4. Part 4

##  Tully

They had deemed him stable enough to finish his recovery in Stockton. Not fully back in gen pop, but in the infirmary. When Orwell came by to give Tully the news, he felt like he had just swallowed a bag of rocks. Back in Stockton. Even if it was just infirmary it was still too close to where it happened. Too close to the people he would need to face. And worse, he no longer had the AB. No one watching his back.

“I’m telling you… you have a case,” Orwell insisted, clearly itching to jump on the opportunity. “Just say the word, I launch a lawsuit so big you won’t be spending another minute in Stockton.” He shrugged. “Can’t promise you’ll never end up behind bars again of course,” he chuckled but when Tully did not return his amusement he rubbed at the back of his head awkwardly and cleared his throat. “Just… please tell me you’ve at least been considering it.”

He was going back to Stockton. That was all he could think about. Despite what promises Orwell was making, he knew he was going back. There would be no escaping it. Orwell was good but even he did not work that fast.

The lawyer only waited a few minutes before sighing. “Keep thinking about it. We only have a narrow window to do this. Especially now that they’re talking about investigating things.” He waited another moment, seeming to expect Tully to give him the green light, but when nothing happened he took his leave and Tully was alone again.

##  Lily

The items from under the kitchen sink had been sitting on the counter like a giant elephant in the room. Juice had not brought it up and she had been waiting for him to, knowing he had to be curious. To say she was embarrassed was an understatement. When her mind was tugged to that dark place and she lost control, coming back to reality was always a mortifying experience. She never knew what to say. How to explain herself. And staring at those items sitting where they did not belong was getting to her. The least she could do was put them back.

She was on her knees, opening up the cupboard when she heard Juice coming and looked up to see him watching from the doorway. “Hey…” she muttered, unable to look anywhere but the floor. “Saw they were still out.” She pointed to the counter in explanation before reaching for the box of dish detergent. When she gave it a tug, the felt something holding it down and looked up. Juice’s hand was resting on top of the box. That made her finally look at his face, watching him chew on his lip as if he were debating something.

“It’s okay,” he said, pulling it away from her hand. “We got plenty of cupboard space. Can keep that one empty.”

Lily stared. She was still getting to know him, but she had seen enough to know he had some level of OCD. Everything in the cupboards were stored “just so” and if she placed anything in haphazardly, by the next time he passed through it would always be rearranged to where it was “supposed” to be. Even telling her they did not need to store everything she had knocked out the night before back where he kept it seemed to be agitating him. Only a little though.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “That’s where we keep it-”

“We’ll keep this stuff somewhere else,” he insisted and there was something in his eyes that made her feel nervous. “It’s not a big deal, Lil.”

He knew. Her heart began to pound and she looked at the floor again, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. There came the sound of knees cracking and Juice was down in front of her with a grunt. He seemed hesitant, clearly not knowing how to proceed, but he brought a hand up to rest on her shoulder. The gentle warmth caused her heart to clench and Lily pressed her own hand against her mouth before it could scrunch while tears formed in her eyes.

“Wh- Who told you?”

Juice sighed and began to rub at her shoulder. “Found some news articles… ‘bout your dad.” He sounded remorseful. He had pried into something personal without letting her know and she could hear it in his tone that he felt bad about it. “Lil… I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled and the tears began to fall, causing him to scoot closer so he could wrap his arms around her. When she leaned into him, he tightened the embrace, rubbing at her back to comfort her in whatever way he could.

“I’m sorry,” she choked, bringing one arm around to cling on to him. “S- Sometimes… It’s st- still there…”

Juice hushed her, even rocked her a bit. “Know… Know exactly what that’s like.” His grip tightened. “Sometimes… can still hear him… grunting… F- Feel his sweat... dripping on my back...” Lily knew what he was talking about. The AB con on she had seen on the news. The reason they had been keeping the TV off a lot recently. She shuddered in Juice’s arms, secretly grateful she was not the only one trying to live through a past that never seemed to want to leave.

He slowly released her, his eyes on the cupboard door while he continued to rub her back. “You can hide… whenever you need to. Promise I’ll keep it empty for you.”

She nodded her head, still feeling ashamed he even felt the need to do that. But he understood and that mattered more to her than shame.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

##  Juice

For the first time that week, the TV was on. And not just Netflix or something safe. Not just something that did not run the risk of them seeing a news broadcast. It was actually on. Commercial breaks and the works.

Juice sat on the couch beside Lily, both of them watching a rerun of some mindless sitcom, needing something light to focus on. But now that they had finally broached the subject, Juice was unable to help asking at least one more question now that things were calm again. “So… why Lily?”

She turned her head, looking confused. “Why what?”

“Your name,” Juice elaborated with a chuckle. “Why ‘Lily’? Why’d you take your mom’s name?” He had a feeling the explanation was probably something simple. Maybe she was tired of people recognizing her old name. Maybe she was genuinely did not like her old name. Whatever it was, he was still curious to hear her input.

Lily turned her eyes back to the screen, taking a minute to munch on the bag of potato chips in her lap. “She… she was brave,” she answered at length. “Faced… _ him _ so I didn’t have to. All the way to the end.” Her voice wavered a bit and she nervously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And… and I… wanna be brave like that. Instead of scared all the time.” She swallowed hard, looking down at the bag of chips in her lap. “I don’t wanna be scared anymore.”

Juice nodded his head, not sure why he expected the answer to anything but sad. He reached up, rubbing at her shoulder lightly before bringing his arm around her, feeling the need to bring her closer. “She… protected you,” he said softly. “That’s what real parents do. Don’t mean she wasn’t scared sometimes.” He turned his head when he felt hers rest on his shoulder and he planted a small kiss to her crown. “You are brave, Lily, even if you don’t see it,” he whispered. “It’s okay to be scared.” A small smile. “You got me now, right?”

He could see the corner of her mouth curve upwards. “Yeah. I do.” He gave her another rub then returned his attention to the TV.

##  Tully

The transfer back to Stockton was slow and uneventful. Rather than the screaming ambulance that had whisked him away, he was loaded back into a familiar prisoner transport bus, his wrists and ankles cuffed like they had been years ago when he was first detained. He stared out the window as urban surroundings turned into bland nothingness. In retrospect, he was lucky a real hospital was even provided to him. Prisoners were often expected to recover in the infirmary and a hospital transfer was only used in extreme cases. That only served as a reminder of how awful his physical state had been when they found him on the shower floors.

Tully blinked and squirmed in his seat. He could not be thinking about that. Not now. Not when he was on his way back into the lion’s den. There were bigger things to worry about. Without the AB watching his back, and with his assault made so public, a power shift had definitely taken place. Rather than being at the top, they knew he could be overpowered. Knew he had been overpowered. Years of establishing himself in the prison hierarchy, gone. If he had any hope of reestablishing that position, he would have to fight. There would be blood, of that he was certain. And he hated thinking about it. But as long as he showed no fear…

And therein lay the rub. He was afraid. Enough that he could admit it to himself even if he would be damned before he admitted it to anyone else. He was very afraid. What had happened… he had never experienced a worse state of vulnerability and torture. He was still jumping at every shadow, every sudden noise or movement. And he loathed himself a little more each time it happened. But worse than that, something else was eating at him. And he was trying his hardest to push that something far, far away from his mind though with no avail.

Flashes of similar situations… but ones where he was not the one pinned to the floor.

That stirred a sickness in his belly he had not felt in a very long time, but he did his best to keep trying to ignore it. Being assaulted created an overwhelming sense of self-loathing. He knew this. He tired to write those feelings off as just his mind trying to attack him in the aftermath and nothing he should give any merit to. But they were still there, eating at him. On top of everything else. But could he really be blamed for merely participating in the unfortunately reality of prison life? He did not want to hear the answer though he damn well knew what it was.

When the bus finally passed the gates, he was escorted slowly to a wheelchair that had amazingly been provided for him. That was a relief. Walking was still agony as his ribs were still mending. His face was a kaleidoscope of bruising though both his eyes were able to open and close now without much effort. As for his other injuries… he refused to think about them. They would heal and he would move on. That was his only option.

When they rolled him into the infirmary and the proper staff was present, they released him of his cuffs and he was able to crawl into the slightly less comfortable bed they had provided him. Same scratchy sheets as the hospital’s, only the mattress was more stiff. Not that it mattered. He was not there to be comfortable. Truth be told, they could have provided him with a memory foam mattress and it would have made little difference. As soon as the staff left him, stationing the usual guard at the door, he became aware of just how fast his pulse was already racing.

If there was one thing his attack had made him glaringly aware of, it was the fact that security even in prison was an illusion. All it took was a crooked guard getting paid just enough and anything could happen. He should know. He himself had paid plenty of them off to allow room for the unspeakable. It was hard to even think of himself as a victim when he knew well enough he was just as bad as the Triads. The only thing different was his lack of what he considered unfortunate genetics.

A few hours passed and he began to settle. If anyone was coming to kill him, he more than likely would not find out until lights out. And that was another six hours away at least. Lying there in fear was doing nothing so he closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep.

Tully had no memory of falling asleep or dreams, but when the infirmary door opened, he jumped awake enough to cause his healing ribs to roar in protest. A guard was holding the door open, speaking to someone on the other side. Tully cringed. Most likely it was his lawyer trying to weasel his way in. In spite of what Orwell was hoping, he was not going to make a case of this. That was as bad as being a snitch. The lawyer would have to find some other ambulance to chase.

“One minute,” Tully heard the guard say, and after the sound of handcuffs being unlocked reached his ears, his heart began to thud.

No… not again…

When he saw one of his own men step in, however, he released the breath he had been holding and relaxed a bit. The man’s name was Ratchet having been dubbed that after having put one to interesting use on a cop, landing him in Stockton. He was Tully’s former right-hand man and was no likely the one who replaced him after he was ousted. Was he coming to relay that information to him? Tully was not sure. He doubted the AB would ever really involve him in any of their dealings again. But maybe he was wrong.

Ratchet pulled up a chair beside Tully, looking him over in assessment before speaking. “Look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw ya.” A smirk. “Those chinks really made a mess of you.”

Tully shrugged, ignoring the pain. “If they’d had any balls, they wouldn’ta come at me when I was unarmed… and naked. Fucking cowards.”

“I hear ya,” Ratchet sighed. “But… we got ourselves a problem.” His smile faded a little too fast and Tully felt himself once again growing nervous. “You’re back. I mean… not fully, but you’ll be in gen pop soon. And right now, everyone knows you as the Triads’ bitch Nazi who made the AB a fucking joke.” He glanced down at Tully’s hands, then back up at him. “We know you ain’t like us, Tully. Never have been. Was always more about the business end of things, and that was fine. But this… just hurts our reputation. And now it seems the ones in charge, want to make an example of why the AB was something people used to be afraid of.”

Tully’s heart was hammering.

“We got people out there cheering for ‘punch a Nazi,’ people waving your story around like it proves anything about us… So hopefully you can understand our need to adjust their opinion.” He sighed and avoided Tully’s gaze.

“If you’re gonna kill me, just do it,” Tully spoke up, trying to not make that sound as cowardly as it felt. “I’m willin’ to die if it helps you make a statement.”

“You ain’t gonna be our martyr,” Ratchet answered, standing up. “But you ain’t gonna be wearing our signs anymore.” And then Tully realized why Ratchet had been looking at his hands. The ink.

At that moment, the guard poked his head in and Ratchet gave a nod. In a moment of Deja Vu, three more AB men, all of which Tully had once worked with and knew well, filed in, each of them clutching something in their hands. The guard nodded pointedly in Tully’s direction. “Make sure you gag him. Won’t be able to stop the staff if they hear him.” And then the door closed.

No. This was not happening again. Not from his own men...

Tully tried to spring up from the bed, but Ratchet and one of the other men were already pinning him down by his shoulders with one hand while using the other to grab and hold his wrists. A sock was crammed in Tully’s mouth, followed by a strip of duct tape to hold it in place. Then his wrists were taped down to the rails on both sides of the bed and he felt someone else weighing his legs down. Then he saw what was in their hands.

Steel wool.

If he tried to scream, the makeshift gag stopped it. If any sound escaped his nose, one of the men would pinch it shut to silence him and then hold it until he nearly passed out from the lack of oxygen. As he went into shock, he prayed they would only target the swastikas on his hands. That there would be some mercy.

But they did not. Not even the ‘SS’ tattoo on his thigh was spared.


End file.
